The best thing would be to get to a window and somehow attract Johnny’s attention without attracting the attention of Silenus. Earlier on, she might have considered this not too difficult given the big man’s blurriness from drink. However, she remembered the fauns’ caution. They had hinted that Silenus was not as out of it as he appeared, that he was devious and sharp.
This made it trickier.
All this presupposed, too, the one thing Becky did not want to think about: that Johnny Cadman was still in Silenus’s clutches.
Not in Silenus’s stomach.
Carefully, Becky made her way forward. At some point she had fully expected to hear the raucous music, but despite the light, all was still strangely quiet.
Becky was unsure whether to be relieved by that or disturbed.
The loud music would have nicely camouflaged her approach, not that she thought Silenus had the sort of hearing, sharp as he might be, that could sense her nearness through the walls of his cottage. She was mindful, however, of the number of times she had badly miscalculated already. She now knew how alert the fauns were to the faintest of sounds, and Silenus was cunning enough a hunter to have caught at least one faun recently.
Silence could mean anything. It could mean Silenus was out of the house, or in a drunken slumber. It could mean he was especially alert, perhaps suspecting a visit from the centaur he had fled from earlier in the day.
Becky stopped again. She listened intently, but could hear nothing.
The light was still a yellow gleam in the distance, but she could see no smoke from the fire.
Was that a good sign?
Becky did not want to consider that, but it bothered her all the same.
Thus preoccupied, she almost crashed into the dark shape that suddenly loomed before her before she saw it, so intent was she on keeping the cottage in view.
With a gasp she was just able to stop in time.
There was something peculiar about the shape. It seemed more substantial than the bushes she had learnt to avoid. It was larger, denser, more structured somehow.
Her sudden realisation of what the shape was came just too late.
She gave a yelp and a cry of pain as her arm was suddenly grabbed.
She knew in an instant that this was not Silenus.
The shape she now realised with a sickening certainty was that of a parked farm trike.
She looked up at the figure gripping her in a steel-like hold.
She saw the shining leather, and the black globe of a helmet.
Then a voice she found vaguely familiar hissed, ‘I thought you’d be along sooner or later, you foolish, foolish child. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll give me that flute, and you’ll give it to me now!’
Earlier, when the motorcycle roared past him, Silenus had given a strangled cry of surprise and rage. Somehow he had managed to leap out of harm’s way, but he knew his arrow had completely missed its target. It was hardly surprising. He had scarcely known anything move so fast or with such a ferocious roar. There was no time to take proper aim or even to steady himself before the beast was upon him.
He gathered himself up and spun about. The boy, Johnny, had jumped to the left and the girl to the right, the angry beast just bisecting the pair of them.
His jaw still slack with the shock of it, his gaze then followed the strange creature as it whined to a halt and then described a large moving circle. There was no doubt about its intention: it was planning another charge.
Silenus, recklessly brave at the worst of times, was also enough of a realist to know that his great bow and arrow were insufficient to do more than dent its purpose, and that firing another arrow at the thing would probably do no more than enrage it further. Accordingly, the best course of action was to leap out of the way. Already the girl, Becky, was scrambling up the slope and the white-faced boy seemed, too, to be aware that the bank was the only hope.
Once they were all high above the sandy strand, the boy Johnny shook his fist and cried, ‘Bloody maniac!’
The beast roared back towards them, and then slowed and began to mount the bank. Silenus suddenly appreciated the danger. Silenus had never known such a squealing roar of rage as that which came from the centaur. It was if the noise itself were propelling the black monster.
Hesitating only long enough to decide that there was nothing he could do to halt its remorseless attack, he turned, seized the boy Johnny and fled as fast as his great legs could take him.
Silenus did not deign to look back over his shoulder until he had bounded at least a couple of hundred metres. At that point, partly reassured by the fact that the crescendo of rage he was expecting to be snapping at his heels was not happening, he allowed himself a hurried look behind.
He was hugely relieved to find that for some reason the beast had fixed upon the girl-child Rebecca and was bouncing after her as, cut off from them, she was fleeing towards the hills.
Pausing to catch his breath, Silenus lowered Johnny to the ground and laughed.
Johnny shook himself and gazing back himself saw what was happening. Then he turned angrily to the big man.
‘What’s so funny?’
Silenus pointed. ‘Look! The centaur is chasing the girl! How stupid!’
Johnny could not understand what on earth Silenus meant. ‘It’s not a bloody centaur,’ he cried. ‘It’s an idiot on a bloody farm trike and he wants to run Becky down. We have to do something!’
The big man looked down at Johnny, puzzled by his vehemence. ‘Do something? Why?’
‘Because we have to save her, you great lunk!’ cried Johnny, exploding.
‘Why?’ asked Silenus, genuinely confused. ‘The centaur will catch her and eat her, and will waste time doing so, and we will escape. Why should we save her? Do you want us to be eaten as well?’
Johnny was exasperated. ‘He’s not going to eat her. It’s just a guy on a machine. He wants to run her down!’
Again, Silenus laughed, this time at the boy’s foolishness. ‘Enough!’ he cried. ‘The silly child has given us a chance to escape and it would be churlish of us not to take the opportunity. The centaur will not pause long over her bones. In fact, I fear she may only whet his appetite. As soon as he has finished he will want bigger, better meat. Let us be off!’
Johnny shook his head, his eyes blazing with fury and frustration. ‘How can you do this!’ he cried. ‘You’re huge! As soon as that guy gets off the trike you’d have it all over him!’
He ducked down and out of Silenus’s immediate reach, and to the big man’s astonishment began running back along the path they had taken.
Meanwhile, it seemed Becky had disappeared. The trike, engine now idling, had stopped momentarily. Then it lurched to the right and began to track along a path back towards the gorge. Johnny then saw Becky emerge. It looked like she must have plunged down and then climbed up the steep side of a gully. He gave a little gasp of relief as he realised that she had found a point where the rider was unable to pursue her on the machine. Johnny stopped to watch the tableau before him. Becky was now running frantically for the hillside, while the motorcyclist seemed to be following the lip of the gully away from her. Obviously he was seeking a way down and up and over; equally obviously he was unable to find such a way.
Suddenly, Johnny felt his arm seized and he turned to find Silenus beside him once more.
‘She’s running for the forest,’ said Johnny, pointing. ‘The guy can’t follow her on the trike.’
Silenus grunted. ‘I don’t understand the foolish centaur,’ he muttered. ‘Why doesn’t it leap that ditch? It would have her in a matter of moments.’
Johnny shook in the big man’s grip. He was held fast and it was hurting. Moreover, he could not understand Silenus’s cold-blooded lack of interest in Becky’s welfare.
‘Stop it!’ he protested. ‘You’re hurting!’
Silenus ignored him. If anything, his grip tightened, and Johnny swore and gave a gasp of pain.
They stood for some moments, as Becky scrambled into the trees and disappeared, and then Silenus lifted Johnny again and tucked him back under his arm.
‘We will return!’ he announced. ‘This has been a thirsty morning!’
By the time Silenus and his burden reached his cottage, Johnny was thoroughly groggy with the bouncing and shaking of the big man’s lurching gallop across the valley floor.
He was also angry and bewildered. Once they were inside the door, Silenus none too gently dropped him on the floor and strode across the room for his crock of ale. He pulled the cork and without even bothering to fill his tankard lifted the neck of the crock to his lips and began to guzzle.
‘We can’t leave her there!’ Johnny protested as soon as he was able to catch his breath.
Silenus put the crock down and glanced at him.
‘Leave who where?’ he asked.
‘Becky, of course!’ said Johnny in exasperation. He wanted to add You idiot! But realised that the big man’s behaviour had been quite brutal and erratic since the episode with the motorcycle and he had no wish to provoke him any further.
‘She will keep,’ said Silenus flatly as he upended the crock again.
Johnny looked at him wildly. He imagined what it must be like for Becky alone in the forest. He guessed that sooner or later the murderous rider would either find a way to cross the gully on the trike or, more likely, abandon the machine and chase Becky on foot. Before that happened they should really do all they could to find her and bring her to safety.
For some reason, doing such a thing was not even occurring to Silenus. All he seemed interested in doing was guzzling at the crock of beer.
Disgusted, Johnny gave him a look of scorn and said, ‘Well if you won’t help me, I can’t make you. I suppose.’
Silenus merely stared at him balefully.
Johnny was disgusted by the man’s lack of compassion.
‘So you won’t help?’
Silenus simply ignored him.
Johnny felt he had no choice. ‘See you later, then!’ he said.
It was his intention to walk out the door and make for the hills and somehow find Becky before the rider did. He had no idea how he would do this, nor any idea what he would be able to do if he did. He did not really care.
However, he did not get the chance. Before he had taken a couple of steps, he heard a bang as the crock landed on the table and then a huge hand grabbed his shoulder. The grip was, if anything, more painful than the grip on his arm had been earlier. Johnny gave a sudden cry of pain and swung around angrily.
‘Let go! You’re hurting me!’
His protest had absolutely no effect, except to prompt Silenus to shift his grip to his arm.
Abruptly, he found himself being lifted from the ground.
‘Yeoww!’
‘Stay where you are! I have plans for you, little man. It’s bad enough having to let the centaur get his teeth into the other one.’
Johnny had no idea what the big man meant, but he did not like the sound of it. Not at all. He gave Silenus a startled look, and pleaded again, ‘Let me down! You really are, you’re hurting me.’
Silenus gave him a hugely fiendish grin and said, ‘No tricks, mind?’
Johnny shook his head wildly. In his acute discomfort he would have promised anything.
‘All right then,’ said Silenus. At once, he released his grip, and Johnny fell like a dropped piece of crockery on to the floor, slipping and falling on his side as he did so. He climbed to his feet slowly, rubbing his injured thigh. There would be a huge bruise there in time.
Silenus, meanwhile, had seized the crock again, but this time he found a large tankard and began to pour. The yeasty brown beer foamed into the vessel and Silenus glanced at Johnny.
‘You sure you won’t have a mug of this good ale, boy?’
Johnny shook his head.
‘A pity … It would help put a bit of flesh on you.’
He laughed coarsely and raised the tankard, blowing the foam off the top as he brought it to his lips.
Again, Johnny felt a twinge of alarm. He thought momentarily of trying to make a run for the door, but his better instincts warned him how useless that would be. Already his shoulder and his arm were smarting from the ferocious grip of Silenus and there would be a great bruise developing on his thigh. The man might look like a lumbering giant, but Johnny now knew how quickly Silenus could react when the need arose. No, he would not stand a chance even of getting as far as the door. Much better in the meantime to bide his time and wait for the appropriate opportunity, when and if it should arise.
Silenus looked to be fully engrossed in his beer. He took a great draught every now and again, blew on the foam and smacked his lips noisily. More cautious now, though, Johnny observed that at no time did the big man let him out of his sight. That even as he seemed completely focused on the relish of the beer, one eye was ever glinting in his direction. It was quite disconcerting, and Johnny felt a growing dismay. It was not just that Silenus was uninterested in doing anything about Becky, it was that he was seriously interested in making sure Johnny stayed beneath his thumb.
I’m trapped, thought Johnny, feeling despair.
Why? What is he playing at?
However, Silenus’s manner was now so strange, and despite the grin and the playing with the beer, so undeniably hostile that Johnny did not risk voicing those questions.
The feeling of being trapped continued. If anything, it grew considerably worse. This was because while Silenus had released his physical hold, he had not at any stage relinquished the constant glinting surveillance of his malevolent eye. As a result, Johnny felt he could not move for fear of attracting another lunge and vicious grab. Part of him desperately wanted to withdraw to the adjacent room where he and Becky had slept the previous night, but he did not risk moving. Part of him wanted to go outside, perhaps as far as the river, to check on the movement of the motorcyclist, but he realised that there was even less chance of that being permitted.
The only thing left for him to do was to hunch into himself on the floor like a cowed and bedraggled puppy, at all times keeping a wary eye on the unpredictable man sitting at the table.
He dared not move.
He dared not speak.
Eventually, though, Silenus spoke.
‘I feel food coming on!’ he announced cheerfully, pleased with the prospect. He banged his now empty tankard on to the table and stood and went to investigate the tureen still sitting on the iron range. He lifted the lid and a savoury steam escaped. Dipping a ladle into the tureen, he spooned up some juice and sampled it.
‘Delicious!’ he said, grinning at Johnny. ‘Just delicious! The trouble is there’s not a great deal left. Guests, you know!’
Johnny felt this was a little unfair. Of course, he and Becky had enjoyed a bowl each of the stew the previous night, but it had been a huge tureen and their share would have been insignificant. Still, he did not demur, but nodded silently. He had no wish to contradict the man.
‘Sooner or later, we’ll need to make some more stew,’ said Silenus thoughtfully, almost as though he were talking to himself.
He went to the shelf and came back with two bowls and began to slosh ladles of the rich mixture into them. He brought these to the table, and indicated that Johnny should sit up.
‘Actually, sooner rather than later, I think,’ he continued.
Johnny made no comment. From the man’s manner, he was sure he was playing some kind of complicated mind game, and he wanted no part of it. He supposed the guy was trying to make him feel guilty or grateful or something but he didn’t really care. He could hardly be expected to feel guilty or grateful about the stew when he was virtually a prisoner and not allowed to leave.
‘What do you think we should put in the stew, little man?’ asked Silenus directly, grinning with artificial tenderness at Johnny.
Johnny shrugged.
‘Should we put chicken in the stew?’
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br /> Johnny shrugged again. ‘If you want,’ he muttered.
‘What about a little rabbit? A little grey rabbit?’
Johnny stared at him.
‘I tell you what I like,’ said Silenus confidentially. ‘I like a nice little faun. There was a nice little faun in this stew, you know. It’s what gives this stew its special, shall we say, piquancy …’
Johnny had already taken a couple of spoonfuls. ‘Fawn?’ he asked. ‘You mean Bambi fawn?’
‘Bambi?’ asked Silenus, puzzled. ‘I do not know this Bambi. Tell me, what do you mean?’
‘You know,’ said Johnny, taking another spoonful. ‘Bambi. A little deer.’
‘Oh,’ Silenus laughed. ‘No, I don’t mean a little deer. I mean a dear little faun.’
He laughed again at his little joke, but Johnny did not get it.
‘Anyway,’ continued Silenus, chuckling, ‘we have many choices. Eat up now. If you won’t drink the beer, you must eat the stew. Otherwise you will stay a scrawny little thing not worthy of your keep.’
It seemed another odd thing to say, but Johnny was becoming almost inured to the man’s utterances and odd attempts at jokes.
‘And later,’ added Silenus, reaching over and placing a large hand over Johnny’s. ‘Later I will enlist your help in the making of a magnificent new stew. Would you agree to help me, little man?’
Johnny shrugged. Silenus’s fierce grip and unpredictability meant that he did not really have any choice. ‘Sure,’ he muttered. ‘If that’s want you want.’
For some strange reason, Silenus thought Johnny’s reply inordinately funny, and he roared with laughter, slapping the table as if applauding his own joke.
Once again, Johnny stared at him in alarm.
He’s mad, he thought. He’s off his tree! Stark, barking mad!
The stew finished, Silenus stood. He walked to the door where his great bow leaned against the jamb. Before slinging it across his shoulder, though, he looked back at Johnny still sitting at the table and not daring to move.
The Enchanted Flute Page 14
